The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1887-10-09

when ON a sudden we looks and sees Mars
Frank standin' near us, and of all misera-
ble-lookin' creatures on Gods earf your
father was just de most miserable-lookin'
man | ever seed but he warn't tipsy one bit.
he was as sober as you or is now. Pres
emily he jerks up Milton and hugs and
kisses him and de way de tears did fall from
his eyes mademe most think he had been
converted"
Jerry SAYS he, turning to me, amt
de most internal brute dat cher God let live.
With such patient, loving wife as Mary,
and such bright, beautiful boys as l have,
what 'scuse has | for goin on as l does.
Though Mary never quarrels, though Virgil
never speaks, at least out of de way to me,
but is all de time as 'spectful and 'bedient
to me as he used to be when l was man,
yet knows neither one of dem has got any
love for me. How can dey have love or
respect for me. De boy is devoted to his
mother, and of course it must make his
blood broil to see de trouble | give her.
When man has lived to lose de respect of
his wife and chlllep de sooner de unloved
wretch rids dem of his presence de better.
He looks mighty curious like as he said
dat, and den he leaves us and goes off down
the orchard pat, and de fust thing l hear
was sumfing go bang AFTER | got ober de
shock, your little brother and me starts off
in de 'rection of de sound, and thar under an
old cherry tree we found poor Mars Frank
sprawled on de ground wild de blood just
pouring from HIM, and pistol in his hand
what he had shot hisself wild. / hollered at
de top of my voice for my ole oman, and
when she comes her and me totes him to de
house. Oh, my God, honey, poor Miss
Mary was just wild with grief. A great big
lump was in my throat. But | saw dere
was no time to be lost, so off l goes for de
doctor and brings him back wild me, but
poor Mars Frank was dead-had died, your
mother say, before l reached de barn ON my
way to de DOCTORS"
The account of his fathers tragic end
completely overpowered Virgil, and, lean
ing YEARLY back III his seat, the poor boy
wept bitterly.
Old Jerry was devoted to the children of
his former master, and as the carriage lamp
threw its Pickering rays over the noble
young face beside him, and revealed the I'M
happy expression of the countenance and
the tears falling like rain down the cheeks,
the old negro was deeply moved, and, not
wishing to intrude further upon his young
companions feelings, drove the remainder
of the way in silence.
1t was past midnight when the carriage
drew up before our hero's home.
There is mother at the door" he said, as
he leaped from the vehicle.
At this moment Mrs. Paine-a sweet, sad
faced lady-attired in q black dress and
white apron-ran out on the porch and
down the steps, and throwing her arms
around Nirgifs neck, kissed him several
times, while her lips murmured during the
while:
my boy! My love! My darling"
Dear mother" he murmured with equal
tenderness, and placing his strong young
arm lovingly around the frail body, he led
her to the sitting-room, where a huge log
fire blazed and cracked upon the hearth
On a small table near the fire a delicate
repast Of bread, butter, ham and preserves
was spread while from vessel on the fire
arose the fragrant odor of tea.
''Sit down, my dear, and eat your sup
per" said Mrs. Paine, when she had assist
ed him off with his overcoat
He obeyed, and, after pouring out his tea,
she drew up a chair beside him, and, after
brief silence, during which she seemed
struggling to command her voice sufficient
ly to speak, said:
Il presume uncle Jerry has told you all,
Virgil"
Eyes, mother; it is terrible; but we must
look to God in our sorrow. He is our only
strength. On, mother, have dear friend
at college, Roger Penn, of whom you have
often heard me speak. He is of Quaker
parentage, and so strong and unwavering
Is us IdiJH III Col, Jndp SCdfteIy anyunlnS
seems to trouble him. | would give any
thing to possess hist
But, my son, perhaps Rogers cross isn't
as heavy as yours.
Eyes, mother; he has had to combat with
poverty all his life; and he. says, it is only
by the strictest economy and self-denial on
the part of his parents that he is at col
lege"
But unhappiness is not always the COM
panion of poverty, Virgil. | have heard
you say your college-mate's parents were
both exemplary Christians. Consequently,
the blacklist of all shadows-the one caused
by fathers prohigacy-has never dark
ened Rogers home. He may suffer a good
deal from the inconvenience of poverty, and
his feelings may often be wounded by the
cutting remark of some spoiled, low-bred
child of wealth; but l am sure he has never
tasted one-third of the sorrow my brave boy
has. Ii he had passed through the trouble
you have, his faith would not be a bit
if as strong, as yours. Oh, Virgil.
you know not how nobly you have borne,
and still are bearing, your cross Mother is
proud, unspeakably proud, of her boy! If
it had not been for you | could never have 4
lived through all my trouble. You are my
life, my strength, my hope' And the fond
mother drew her boys head down upon her
breast, and smoothing back stray lock of
his soft, raven hair, tenderly kissed his beau
tiful brow. When he had finished his sup
per she led him to the chamber where
dressed for the tomb, lay his father, with
his hands clasped over his breast. Despite
the change dissipation had wrought in his
looks, he was still handsome, and in his early
and unsulied manhood must have been
SO.
Mrs. Paine paused at the foot of her nus
bands corpse, and gaZed in mournful silence
upon the rigid face.
Virgil fell on his knees beside the dead
Back over the past memory led the youth to
the days of his early childhood, when the
arms, now stiffened by death, had loved to
steal around his neck, and the voice that
would speak never more had delighted to
boast of the intellectual cast of his boys |
and predict what an illustrious
man he would be. Oh, how he had loved
his father in those daysl The boy forgot all
the sins of his dead parent; he remembered
only what his father had been; and as his |
manly young heart went out In tenderness
and forgiveness to the dead, he leaned over
and kissed the cold, pale brow of the
corpse, while he murmured in a broken
voice:
with all your sins, you are my father
still. Although you have brought shame,
misery and poverty upon us-I love you'll
have never ceased to love you and TO pity
your weakness. My poor--poor father
When you were seized with remorse, how
much better it would have been to have
gone to Jesus with your burdened soul How
He would have forgiven all, and